The Golden Age of Albion
by CarpeDiemForLife
Summary: Sequel. Oneshots and short stories that take place after the events of "The Love That Binds Us." Old friends and new adventures await Merlin and Mordred in their future. After all, Camelot will never be without its dangers, but love and friendship will surely be enough to always conquer the day.
1. Wedding Night

_Author's note: Welcome to the sequel for "The Love That Binds Us." I'll be posting mostly oneshots and the occasional multi-chapter episode-style short story. They won't necessarily be posted in chronological order, since I'll generally just be writing whenever inspiration hits me, so I'll always tell you at the beginning of the chapter how long it has been since the end of "The Love That Binds Us." Easy enough? Great! Then enjoy!_

* * *

_That night:_

"I can't believe I agreed to be the bride," grumbled Merlin, entirely good-naturedly. He reached his arms around Mordred to undo the clasp of his deep blue cape. As it had always done, since the day of his knighting, Mordred's heart beat a little faster.

"It seemed fitting," Mordred answered. The knight turned to help Merlin off with his jacket in return. "Besides, you were a _beautiful_ blushing bride."

Merlin snorted, but shook his head. "Nah," he said softly, "I couldn't hold a candle to you."

Mordred's fingers paused, lingering on a golden button as he grew warm and met Merlin's tender gaze. Consciously returning to his task, he looked down at Merlin's chest as his fingers delicately did their work. "You only say that to get me into your bed."

"Well, obviously!"

The warlock grinned as Mordred playfully shoved him.

"You can hardly blame me," he went on gaily. "When I stepped into that throne room, I thought for a moment that I'd stepped into a dream. You were, _are_, stunning, Mordred. More than you know."

Finally sliding his arms free of the jacket, a corner of his mouth pulled upwards. Stalking forward, he slowly walked Mordred backwards until the younger man's back came to rest against the bedpost.

"And I…" He planted a kiss beneath Mordred's ear. "…shall have you…" He sucked gently at Mordred's neck. "…tonight, and many more times in the future." Merlin straightened, slowly tilting his head so that their lips remained only an inch apart.

Mordred felt the breath on his lips, the heat, speeding his pulse and spreading from his lips, to his cheeks, his neck, chest, arms, hands. He swallowed dryly, licking his lips. Instinctively his head nudged towards the source of the tempting heat, but Merlin kept tantalizingly just out of reach.

"Merlin…" he breathed, straining further.

The older man smiled understandingly, but instead of granting him with the touch he desired, Merlin pulled far enough away that Mordred could no longer share his warmth. He pouted.

"I know, I know," said Merlin, placating his husband with hands raised. "But there's something I need to do first."

"What?"

"Here, hand me your ring."

Perplexed, Mordred nonetheless twisted the wedding band off of his finger and rested it gently in Merlin's waiting palm. Merlin brought his hand to his face, murmured a few quiet words of sorcery, and then, much to Mordred's bemusement, blew air over the silver object.

Smiling shyly, Merlin stepped to Mordred's side, holding up the ring for him to see. Amazed, Mordred grabbed it back, staring at the words now engraved on the outside. He read them as Merlin spoke.

"It says, 'From the dawn of a new era to the twilight of our days, I will walk with you through all the steps of life' in the Old Tongue."

Listening in silence, Mordred placed the ring back on his finger, now wearing a promise he knew he would cherish always.

"You have given me the greatest privilege of my life," Merlin continued, "and I will honor it, and you, the best I can, forever."

Still staring in teary-eyed wonder at Merlin's handiwork, Mordred felt lithe fingers weave through his own. He squeezed tightly.

There were no more words shared—nor any that needed to be—as they instead shared their love another way, ushering in the newest stage of their lives with all the passion they knew would define it.


	2. Ambassadors to the Druids

_Author's Note: You know what's great about this sequel? I can post whenever I want to, without feeling like a chapter needs to be at least a certain length and include all relevant scenes. So here's the first part of a sort-of story! Not really, just a little bit. Many many thanks to everyone who has followed me here from The Love That Binds Us. It's great to have you. Remember, the time given at the beginning of each chapter will indicate how long it has been since the wedding. Enjoy!_

* * *

_One week later:_

So far Merlin and Mordred had served Arthur astoundingly well as ambassadors to the druid people. Using Mordred's knowledge from his childhood, and their combined magical and telepathic abilities, they had successfully located two clans of druids in only one week's time.

Both groups were initially wary as two strangers rode into their camp, but it took little time for them to recognize Emrys and to realize that Mordred was one of their own. For all, this was a shock. To see a druid decked out in the garb of a Camelot knight sparked cautious flickers of hope in the weary druids. Hearing from Merlin of the King's legalization of magic fanned that flicker into a flame.

On both occasions, Merlin and Mordred sat up late and spoke with the leader of the clan, explaining Arthur's desire for reconciliation.

The first chief, Rowyl, agreed almost immediately to come to Camelot when they should call for him, his eyes speaking of great trust in the legendary Emrys. Merlin was moved by the faith the druid people had in him, but he also felt a pang that he had failed them for so long. Whenever Mordred sensed his husband's distress, it was shown in a gentle squeeze of the hand or light touch on the back.

The second chief, Antheas, was more hesitant. But after many hours of debate and discussion, the sorcerers gained her approval. Antheas agreed that if her fellow druid Rowyl could meet with the Pendragon king, so could she. Smiles shining, Merlin and Mordred shook hands with her and promised to send word soon.

The next morning, Merlin and Mordred set off back to the palace. There they shared the news with Arthur of their current success.

"Excellent!" Arthur replied, throwing up his hands and clapping them together. "Shall we invite them now, then?"

Merlin glanced at Mordred. The druid nodded. They'd discussed this.

"Not yet, my lord," said Merlin. "There's one chieftain we have yet to locate. He could very well be the deciding factor for how the majority of the druid clans choose to deal with you. We think it best you wait until we've found him. _Then_ we'll summon the other chiefs."

"And what is the name of such an important druid?"

"You've met before. His name is Iseldir."

* * *

"Will you be okay?" Merlin asked quietly as they lay in bed together, his eyes piercing into the side of Mordred's head. The sheets ruffled as Mordred turned to face the other man. He put on a smile that would have been convincing to anyone who knew him less well.

"Of course."

"No, I mean it, really," insisted Merlin. "There's no shame in, you know, staying behind for this one."

Mordred sighed. He smiled gratefully and placed a gentle hand on Merlin's cheek. "Yes, there would be," he disagreed. "I must come. But thank you for looking out for me."

"I'm sure he'll forgive you, Mordred." The knight shot him an annoyed look and took back his hand, glancing away. "Forgiveness _is_ the druid way, after all."

"Yes, but…" Mordred shook his head against the memories. "After my… betrayal-"

"You didn't betray him. You were only a boy."

"It does not matter."

"It _does_."

"You think he will not care that I forsook the druid way after Aglain's death, that I aligned myself with Alvarr," growled Mordred, "simply because I was a boy? In that dark time, Iseldir came to me and offered me a new home, a family, and I repudiated him. Instead I sought the company of violent men. And then I went on to commit murder, and become a trader of slaves."

"But look at you _now_, look at all you've-"

"No. After all he did for me as a child, and the way I repaid him… He will reject me, and I shall deserve it." Mordred turned over so that his back was to Merlin. His voice grew muffled in the air. "But it is my duty to speak with him as Arthur's ambassador, and I will do so. I will not be a coward, Merlin. I want to be better than that."

The warlock's chest ached, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms tightly around Mordred to show his love and support. So he did. He pressed himself as close to Mordred's back as he could, holding the young man firmly round the middle.

Mordred didn't say a word, but he placed his arm atop Merlin's and clenched Merlin's hand with great strength. The lovers were silent the rest of the night, merely holding onto each other.


	3. Nighttime Intruder

_Author's Note: I haven't yet finished the second part to the short story begun in the last chapter. So here! Have a tiny bit of fluff while you wait. Just a bit of fun really. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Remember, the time given is how much time has passed since the wedding._

* * *

_One year later:_

Merlin wouldn't have even been in his old room had Mordred not been sick. For the past two nights Merlin had tended to Mordred and set him up comfortably in their shared living quarters, before leaving him to spend the night with Gaius. Merlin would have preferred to stay by Mordred's side, but as it was only a minor illness Mordred had insisted he sleep elsewhere to avoid catching it. So it was that the warlock was in his old room, in his old bed, on this particular night.

Merlin half-woke—what time was it?—when his door creaked open in the middle of the night. All was dark.

"Gaius?" he mumbled in his groggy state.

"Scoot over," demanded an equally tired voice.

Grumbling his annoyance, but not arguing with the strange order, Merlin shifted to one side of the bed. Arthur dropped down like a lump onto the other. The bed was so small that the two men had to squirm, trying to find a way to lie together comfortably. As they soon found, it wasn't possible.

(Except in one position, as the warlock was well aware. But when Merlin began to suggest, "Put your arm over-"

"No," was the immediate and final answer.)

After a minute of awkward pulling and shoving and smacking, Arthur growled, "Go put your head at the other end."

"This is _my bed_!" cried the outraged manservant. "Why don't _you_ put your head down there?"

"I'm the King, Merlin, don't be stupid."

Muttering about useless royal prats, Merlin stood up and flopped himself down the opposite way.

"I miss my pillow," he grumbled petulantly.

"Boo hoo."

Yanking the blanket to cover himself, Arthur almost completely divested Merlin of its protection and warmth. Disgruntled, the manservant yanked back, bunching the fabric in his hand and clutching it close to his chest. "And _why_ are you in my bed?" he muttered into the darkness.

"The twins," Arthur groaned in response. "They're restless tonight. They won't give me a moment's peace to sleep. And I've got that meeting with King Odin tomorrow; I have to be well rested."

"Nrrghh."

"Believe me, I agree. Now shut up and let me sleep."


End file.
